A Die Hard Story Featuring Hans and an OC
by Taylor Robinson
Summary: Takes place during Nakatomi  sp?  take over, fun little interogation, includes OC and sexual tension.


**please note NOT related to my other die hard story**

Karl and another unnamed man drag a young woman towards the office their leader had occupied. He lazily glanced up as they brought the woman in.

"Why is it," he drawled, "that I sent you out to find the man ruining our plans and you two geniuses bring back a girl?"

"We found her on the twenty second floor in the stairway," Karl gruffly explains, shoving the new captive down in a chair facing the desk of his boss. She carefully averts her eyes from him.

"Then put her with the rest of the hostages and move on," he sharply orders them. He stands and walks towards the window, peering out of the blinds at the chaotic scene below.

"We think she may have been working with him," Karl abruptly elaborates. Hans slowly rotates around and lends a sliver more of his interest.

"Why?"

"When she saw us she yelled a name." Hans angrily gestures for him to continue. "John."

"So?" he leader spits out. "That could be anyone," he impatiently dismisses the weak evidence.

"But after she said it we heard feet running up and a door open and close. As if someone was running away." Hans looks at the men with a masked face that doesn't betray the rage he feels.

"All that means is that she was with another person, we have no idea who it was. Now go back out and find him!" what started as barely a whisper crescendos to a shout. She involuntarily flinched. This draws Hans' attention towards her.

"To be sure, you could ask her," Karl bitterly suggests. Hans tilts his head slightly to one side and leans down towards her slumped form.

"Very well. Miss...whatever your name is, have you met the person who is disturbing our plans?" in response she shifts in the chair and looks further to the side.

"He asked you a question," Karl points out while forcefully swatting the back of her head. The newest hostage sets her jaw and looks to the window. Hans cocks an eyebrow ad purses his lips.

"This is useless," Hans remarks to Karl in German. Trying a less direct approach he asks her, "What were you doing here tonight?" silence.

"Answer him!" Karl orders hitting her again. then again.

"Karl," Hans reprimands him in his Dark voice. Karl glares.

"Her parents are probably in the crowd," the unknown partner suggests. Hans shakes his head. He already noted the lack of anyone holding a specific interest in the proceeding of the interrogation.

"She doesn't need to answer, I can read it off her person." for the first time she gives Hans eye contact, curious about his method. Karl and his companion give their boss an odd look.

Hans begins circling the chair examining every part of the girl before him. He notes the chipped nail polish, business like attire, bright and new heels, cheetah printed bra just visible through he white blouse, junior style of clothing, and the application of her makeup; slight but still playful.

"Co-worker. intern." he pauses. "High school." now she looks up, surprise flickering on her features. "so I was correct. Hmm. Junior," he guesses and she can't help but tell him he's wrong. She shakes her head so very slightly. "No? Then sophomore." now more surprise. "I'm correct again, gentlemen," he announces to the crowd. They are more surprised than their hostage.

"Now, let's try again, were you with the man who has been screwing with our plan?" Hans asks in a soft voice, his face very close to hers. Naturally, neither of them misses the dilation in each others pupils. Giving what could be interpreted as flirtatious glance she stares into his hawk like eyes for a second before choosing to look down.

Behind them, Karl growls with impatience. "Answer him!" he yells, punctuating the order with another blow to her head. Hans watches him wind up for another and his long fingered hand intervenes before it can be completed. She winces in preparation for the strike that never comes. Flicking her eyelids open she immediately sees that Hans was the one who stopped Karl from hitting her, his forearm still gripped in Hans' hand. Karl yanks it back glaring.

"I'm getting impatient, miss, please tell me what I want to know. Who were you with when my men caught you?" the silence becomes so prolonged no one in the room expects a response. Hans sighs and leans back against the desk.

"You should let me hit her again," Karl suggests in German.

"No one," the words fall from her mouth before Hans can finish his contemptuous thought directed at Karl. Everyone's attention is fixated on the young woman. They exchange glances.

"Then who did they hear run away?" she gives an uneven shrug. "I dunno, maybe someone was following me." her eyes dare him to question her truthfulness.

"Whose name did you yell?" she tilts her head as if looking at a odd and stupid specimen. "my boyfriends. He's not here, I just thought of him. A useless cry for help if you will, as if on the subconscious level."

"She's lying," Karl accuses in German.

"I know," his boss replies using their common language.

"We don't believe you."

"Well I'm telling you I didn't met anyone else tonight." he narrows his eyes, positive that she was only looking at him like that to distract him. just then there is a burst of static followed by John McLane's voice on the walkie talkies they have been using.

"Hans, what are you doing to her?" Hans gives her an 'o, really' look.

"Ah, Mr. Mystery guest, it's so nice to hear from you again. Just who are you referring to, may I ask."

"Damn It, Hans you very well know."

"Mmm, no, you'll have to be more specific."

"The girl two of your goons nabbed in the stairwell."

"Oh, I was unaware you two were aquatinted." Hans is giving the girl in front of him a glare like none other for lying.

"We're not, but I was following her to see if she'd get out safely." Hans has shifted so he is sitting on the edge of the desk with his arms crossed and staring at his soon to be personal hostage.

"Unfortunately, you failed to coordinate stories with the girl, her fear is betraying your lie at every word."

"Maybe she's scared of you," John hisses out.

"No, she's not scared of me; not at all. She's scared your going to contradict the story she spun for us only seconds ago."

"Hans! What at you doing To that poor girl?" john's voice yelled from inside the black rectangle.

"Funny you ask, at the moment Karl's got her naked on top of a table." her eyes bulge. As soon as the talk button is released Karl murmurs, "Yah I hear that." Hans' glare silences him from making further comments.

"Don't any of you touch her!"

"Why?" an idea as occurred to him. "Is she your girlfriend by chance, John?" she's gnawing in her bottom lip and staring intently at the machine in Hans' hand.

"Are you kidding? That's disgusting! Do you know how old she is?"

"No, do tell me."

"She's sixteen!" he yells, hoping to shock Hans into not hurting her. Hans finished his statement his is hand covering her mouth, her sharp intake of breath an obvious sign she was about to yell so John knew the truth while Hans' finger was still on the talk button.

"O, fuck," John mutters as he realizes what he just walked into.

"Thank you, Mr. cowboy." Hans sets down the device and makes a disappointed hum in his throat.

"You naughty girl," he purrs in her ear as only Hans Gruber can. She exhales her warm breath through her nose on his hand. Eyes shocked and afraid. The two others in the room look on with interest and their usually cool boss's peculiar behavior. Usually it would be a bullet instead of a hand stopping a hostage's outburst.

"Hans, what are you doing to her?" johns worried voice breaks into the silence and Hans and his hostages prolonged eye contact.

"I haven't Decided yet, actually." he brings his hand away from her face.

"Was she really naked on a table?" he questions softly. Hans snickers.

"No, but I think she's about to be." with that he shuts off the communicator and removes his hand from her mouth. Her eyes beg him to admit a bluff. Instead, he winks, she'll be more likely to answer, and honestly, if she is frightened.

"Now that it has become obvious that you have not answered my questions honestly, we're going to start again, and I expect the truth or...unpleasant, to say the least, things will happen to you." In the chair she gives a slight tremor. "Let's test this new policy, do you know who the voice on the radio belongs to?"

She swallows and gathers herself so her voice won't crack and betray her fear. He could just decide she was lying and do 'unpleasant' things to her.

"Yes." He rolls his eyes.

"I don't want to drag every word out of you, so let's speed this up, mostly by you disclosing everything you know about a subject."

"Very well. I understand you a very busy man." She's stalling and it is pretty obvious. "John is his first name, I didn't not ask him for a last. He was accompanying me downstairs to check if any exits were open to escape out of. I went first because we assumed an attack would come from the upper floors, which we had already passed." She tosses her head, unsure to continue.

"Go on," he urges, looking the definition of masculinity and control leaned up against the edge of the desk, arms crossed, eyes locked on his informant.

"That's all I know," she lies, a slight tremor in her voice.

"Please, Miss, I don't want to hurt you-"

"Then don't," she barks, cutting him off, something he usually doesn't take to kindly to.

"But," he continues as if uninterrupted, "I will if that is what it takes to get a straight answer from you." She sighs, unwilling to betray the cop. He leans forward, his hands on the arms of the chair, his face very close to hers. "He did you no favors, admitting he knew you, it is his fault we knew you lied. His fault you are still here with us and not a number in the crowd, not singled out for our rage should something go wrong." HIs deep voice tickles her eardrums, his words make her squirm. "Personally, I find it hard to believe even an American could be so dumb to admit the connection between you, perhaps it was purposeful. Maybe he did it to insure whoever he cares about is safe with you as our scapegoat. Or, maybe, he did it because the thought of what we would do to you turned him on. He did seem pretty interested in what we were doing to you. If you were naked. On a table," he sneers the last word. She can no longer look at him.

"I'd bet you right now he's off in some corner jerking o-"

"Shut up!" She barks at him, jumping to her feet. She shoves him back and in his surprise he stumbles back into the desk.. Everyone is silent and shocked, but Karl reaches for his gun should Hans give the order. "You're pulling all of that out of your-," she altered her statement because she decided it was not the best time to test her limits, "out of nothing."

"Just keep telling yourself that. Now," his voice lost it's soft quality he exploited a moment ago and changed to a line as harsh and sharp as a whip, "sit." In order to insure her compliance he pushes her shoulders forcefully and it is her turn to stumble. She ends up in the chair, falling with a gasp.

"Why is he at this party? What makes him think he can stop us?"

"To the first question, he was with his wife. The second, he's a cop, NYPD," she mumbles, ashamed at her betrayal. He cocks an eye brow.

"Fascinating. Who is his wife?" he curtly questions.

"He didn't say," she answers softly, voice fading at the end, staring at Hans' well polished shoes.

"Oh really?" He grabs her jaw with enough pressure to bruise and forces her to make eye contact. "Answer again, honestly." She's trying to shake off his grip but it holds and she responds with gritted teeth.

"He never actually said, but I inferred, but those are my own thoughts and I see no reason to share them, I could easily be wrong."

"Humor me," he orders.

"No." He rolls his eyes and moves his free hand to her leg and begins slowly stroking her skirt protected flesh. More specifically, her upper thigh. He can feel her pulse pounding under his hand on her jaw and her muscles twitching, probably trying to stop them from kicking him, under his other. She's biting her lip, possibly to prevent herself from blurting out the name. He increases the stakes. Taking care to never break eye contact, he slowly slides his hand down her thigh and then flips the hem up and begins to travel up. Her breathing has become shallow and rapid. Hans' coworkers exchange a glance, both at his methods and curious how much longer she will resist. Hans grins sadistically at her peril.

His slightly calloused finger tips reach the top of her nylons before she blurts out, "Eliana Rose." It is the name of a woman about Holly's age who is quite the bitch, if she was going to pick anyone for their attention, she would not tell them Holly, the woman she is almost positive his bride. He nods and the unknown companion goes to the crowd to find Eliana.

He lingers on the edge of the fabric while he tries to measure truth. Due to the spike of all emotions he caused her he can't be certain, but is willing to bet his treatment caused her to break.

"Thank you, that wasn't so hard, was it?" he teases and releases her jaw. She glares at him and he remembers to withdraw his hand, but that doesn't mean he resists caressing her leg on his way down. Her mind is racing as she tries to calculate if it was purposeful. It probably was, another tatic to put her on edge.

"Where are my detonators?" he begins the interrogation again, respecting her personal space once more.

"He keeps them on his person, black duffle bag. There are some explosives in it as well."

"We are aware, it was one of our bags. How many has he killed?"

"He didn't give me a number, he just said, 'a few,' I assumed three but I could be wrong, I didn't ask to double check."

"Where would he go now? To hide?" She shrugs.

"No idea. We met in a hallway by chance, he didn't say if he had any plans or hide outs." Hans swears in German.

"Thank you, you've been most helpful." Karl prepares to escort her out.

"You're not welcome. May I go?" He pretends to think.

"No? I answered all you questions," she says, voice sharp with anger masking fear.

"The thing is, you have a personal connection to John, and it will be useful to keep you around."

"I gave you his WIFE, surely that will be enough of a personal connection."

"Normally, but you said it yourself, you could be wrong. If so, that woman will be useless and I'll need you as, shall we say, leverage." He watches her anger simmer but thankfully assumes it is directed at him when in actuality, she is the target. After all, she knows the woman Hans' man tracked down is useless, making her the most valuable person here. Hans gestures with a slight wave for Karl to leave and try to locate John. He shuts the door after a long glance between the two people left in the room.

"I'd rather you didn't, to be honest."

"You know, because it is so good to finally get some of that from you, I'll give you a second option. Option one is leverage. Two, if the idea of option one is too much, I'll kill you. You have seen my face for too long, and should something go wrong, you would be a star witness, attesting to my 'cruelty''," he mocks. "Which will it be?"

"One, please."

"Excellent, because it would be a shame to kill you," he comments while giving her long, lecherous look.

Hans sits at his desk and picks up the radio. "Are you there?" he barks.

"Obviously. I want to hear from Chris-, I mean, your newest hostage."

"If you insist, John," Hans gestures for her to comply, "Hi, John."

"Happy?"

"No," John replies. "Let me talk to her."

"Hmm, no. Perhaps I would consider that if you _Gave Me My Detonators_."

"I'm going to have to refuse. How did you find out my name?" He sighed in a satisfied way.

"That was easy. Once our interrogation began she sang about plenty of topics."

"What did you do, Hans?" he yells angrily.

"And you don't find it suspicious at all that he is so interested?" Hans asks the girl in the chair before him. She shakes her head.

"He's worried. Plus, why not find another crime to charge you with?" He glares. She smiles.

"I don't see how that is any of your business. Besides, she may not like our, shall we say, methods broadcasted to all of the country. Quite a private matter." She rolled her eyes at the picture he was painting. "Gorgeous girl though, absolutely gorgeous," he comments staring right at her, examining her reaction. She scoffs and turns towards the window, shifting sideways so her feet go over on arm and her head the other. He gestures to a couch against the wall and she quickly moves to occupy it, and get further away from Hans.

"Hans, you motherf**ker!"

"No, John, that's incorrect, I don't f*ck mothers."

"No? Just sixteen year old girls, you sick, dick headed pervert?"

"What are the chances of you giving me the detonators?" he remains calm.

"Less than zero." Hans clicks off the radio. There is silence for a while before he breaks it.

"I don't believe I ever got your name," he mentions, walking over to the sofa and sitting on the end with her feet. Maybe she was so accustomed to answering his questions, or perhaps a part of her actually wanted him to know.

"Christina Page."

"Hans Gruber," they stiffly shook hands.

"Pleasure to meet you," she sarcastically muttered.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Page," he said, speaking softly . Then gently pressed his lips to hers for a second and strolled out of the room, leaving a shocked and panicked girl lying on the couch, awaiting his return.

**just a short, indulgent thing I wrote which is, once again, NOT related to my other die hard story, I just wanted a chance to craft Hans in a different way. Anyway, thanks for reading!**


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